Untitled Excerpt, by John Moore |
Streetlights stand like sentinels, beset a river of tar. Billie Holiday’s “I’ll be seeing you” creeps across my mind with shifting, sauntering tones. The wind breathes the rain. Cars make their way. It’s a moonless night and I’m wandering again. |
Posted: 2015-10-25 02:17:09 UTC |
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